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summer vacation

I remember summer vacation. Used to be, the school bell rang and we’d dash from our seats like cheetahs chasing a tasty gazelle. We were free! Three months of laziness!

Now. Boo. The kids are out of school, enjoying three months of freedom they won’t appreciate–and us 9-to-5ers are trying not to cry as we look out our office windows at the sunshine and the joy and the warmth and the happiness going on without us.

(I’ll never smile again.)

Something’s wrong with society. Well, that’s obvious, but something ELSE is wrong with society. Imagine how productive and enthused we’d be after a whole summer of playtime and rest!

So who do I petition to make this happen? My overlords didn’t even crack a smile at my suggestion. They’re obviously stone people who don’t remember being young and frivolous. They probably eat the full-sized shredded wheat blocks—with no sugar.

(Shredded wheat in its natural habitat.)

Hear me out, dear overlords!

What if we just have the month of July off to romp and play? No one does business in July anyway! I’d wear shorts everyday, hike each morning, eat fresh foods from farmer’s markets, bask in the sunshine and spit watermelon seeds at my grandkids. I’m tearing up just thinking about it!

I’d come back to work in August, ready to hit it hard. Well. Now that I think about it. I probably wouldn’t. I’d spend August wishing I was still sitting by the pool, drinking margaritas and reading trashy novels.

(This is where I want to die.)

Maybe it’s best I don’t have the summer off. Once I tasted that freedom, I’d only daydream away the hours, longing for a simple life where I could sleep in a hammock and live on grilled vegetables. But a gal can dream, dear overlords. You can’t take that from me.